


gotta stop pretending who we are

by Toast_Senpai



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_Senpai/pseuds/Toast_Senpai
Summary: Mitch adjusts to a revelation. Scott’s known it all along.





	gotta stop pretending who we are

It starts after he gets rid of the cat.

And of course Mitch hates himself for sending Wyatt to a new home. Every time he returns, the house resonates with an emptiness despite being filled with all the material items he could ever wish for. An animal had occupied a certain important place in their little family.

Wyatt isn’t there, and so Mitch’s carefully built up facade starts to slip.

It probably isn’t because of Wyatt himself being gone specifically. It’s more so that it’s the sudden change in his life, one that Scott always seems to mention with a sigh in passing. He’ll bring up the cat just as an off note and it’ll send Mitch’s mood teetering. And not always in a completely negative direction.

Sometimes he catches Scott staring at an old picture of Wyatt that’s taped to the fridge. One time he found a missing cat toy in the couch cushions. Another saw a baggie of catnip pulled from a kitchen drawer. All these things Mitch doesn’t want to think about, but because Scott is there,  _reminding_  him, it’s messing with other carefully constructed barriers. But it turns out they are actually Shoji walls, that’s all, and Scott is repeatedly poking holes in them while Mitch watches in morbid curiosity as he’s exposed.

Not surprisingly, it doesn’t take long before the washi paper is torn to shreds.

It’s on Wyatt’s birthday, of course. And Mitch had forgotten about it, what with the cat not being there. But Scott remembers, of course he does, because Scott’s  _like that_ andMitch wouldn’t trade him for anything. Except he  _really_ doesn’t need that revived since the cat has been gone for almost half a year.

Scott sits on the couch and coos over a timehop photo. He pats the spot next to him, beckoning Mitch over. Mitch doesn’t want to see it, can already feel a tightness in his chest. There will be the sense of regret, and then anger at Scott for bringing it up, but that will dissipate into something else he cannot clearly describe, hasn’t been able to for months. A feeling of vulnerability that’s strangely out of place. Mitch doesn’t _want_ to be that around Scott, can’t afford that, but he walks over anyway because since when has he ever denied Scott his presence?

Mitch slowly perches himself next to Scott, bodies pressed close even though Mitch knows he should keep distance, especially now.

Scott leans into him, warm and smelling like coffee. “Mitch, look. Wasn’t this fun? We made that gross tuna cake that he wouldn’t even eat.” Scott’s smile turns whimsical. “I miss him.”

Mitch clenches his teeth, tries to tell his heart to stop freaking out, it’s not worth it, it’s just Scott being Scott. Scott with that stupidly perfect jawline and soft eyes and not a hair out of place, his heart full of nothing but love. Mitch selfishly wants that heart all to himself.

“ _Fuck_  the cat, Scott.” And he doesn’t mean it like  _that_ , it just slips out, sounds tired. “Why don’t you just-” Mitch stops himself, snaps his mouth closed. He doesn’t want to be like this.

Scott frowns, and Mitch hates seeing that pitiful look of disappointment. “I know you’re upset, but we shouldn’t forget him.”

Mitch wants to say that isn’t the problem, that he’ll always remember Wyatt no matter how much it hurts and no matter how many times he tries to tell himself a new owner is better. But he’s having trouble thinking of how to say exactly what’s finally ticking over in his rusty mind, like someone put WD-40 onto the cogs and yes, there it is, the reason he’s been feeling so unprotected and defenseless.

He simply loves this part about Scott, this weird obsessing over the lost pieces of their shared lives. Mitch has always moved past things, brushed them into the far corners of his mind to be dealt with fleetingly when he’s alone in bed at night, like how they dates years ago for an ephemeral time, only to have him it off. But not Scott. Scott fondly embraces the agonizing memories of their casualties and wants to give Mitch a part of it, so much so that it makes Mitch want to weep at such kindness. Has he ever met anyone with the same capacity for caring as Scott? No. Never.

Mitch takes a shaky breath before he slowly, mechanically, wraps his arms around Scott, buries his face into his neck and inhales deeply.

“Oh, baby, it’s all right,” Scott comforts in his usual soothing way.

But it isn’t. Mitch is not all right. He’s certainly been broken into, the code cracked. And really, Scott knew the combination from the very start.

Mitch tries to shake his head. He teethes at the skin under his lips, feels Scott twitch.

Mitch wonders if he can switch the mood, like throwing a match into gasoline. He doubts his skill but he tries anyway. Another bite, this one at Scott’s strong jaw, just under his ear.

A confused noise comes and Scott’s soothing grip relaxes. Mitch knows he’s confused, because hell, why wouldn’t he be? This is new. Strange. Out of their boundaries.

Oh, but Mitch is going to push those further, step over the fine line they’ve both been playing around.

Mitch pulls up, looks Scott right in the eyes as he kisses him, and it isn’t cheeky and swift, it isn’t hello or goodbye, it isn’t silly for a camera. It’s hard, possessive, something reserved for a lover and just the thought of  _that_  makes Mitch want to laugh at his own boldness because he’s never bold, oh, not like this. In many other ways, yes, but months ago he never would have thought of changing his perfectly constructed friendship with Scott all because he let himself be affected.

Tragic, really. Nevertheless, Mitch can’t let himself think too much about the specifics while he’s trying to get Scott to kiss him back.

It takes coxing, and sweet pressure, a flick of a tongue tip and a gentle, needy whine before Scott is shaken from his daze. He gives in to Mitch, opens up beautifully and Mitch allows himself a moment to relax, mind going wonderfully blank on bliss. Kissing Scott like this has only happened in flashes of drunken daydreams.

“Mitch,” Scott mumbles as he leans away, but Mitch follows, doesn’t let him escape.

He can’t afford that right now, to let Scott question this, to try to talk it out. Mitch half lids his eyes and tilts his head back, gives Scott a look so lascivious he almost stumbles on his words. But he’s an actor, knows how to put a momentary stop to timid emotions and push through in a glorious display of confidence. It’s become so natural, in a way, to tell Scott exactly what he wants without being truly nervous.

“Don’t speak,” Mitch whispers, and Gwen’s sultry voice starts up in his head, crooning those fitting lyrics and Mitch wants desperately to hear the real thing, play it the background, but he can’t give up this suspended moment, not when he’s got Scott like this, waiting for some form of explanation. One Mitch doesn’t plan on telling.

He’s always been better at _showing._

Mitch slides himself into Scott’s lap, sits on muscular thighs and runs a hand up into Scott’s hair, makes sure to grip it  _just so_. He’s getting a confused but steady look in return, and Mitch can’t help but lick his lips and dive back to that supple mouth he’s been trying to resist for so long. Scott lets him, body loosening and heavy hands coming to rest on slim hips.

Mitch hums, pleased. He needs the reciprocation from Scott, has to have that approval of _this_ , whatever it is. A thing Mitch doesn’t want to bother naming, at least not right now, not when Scott is coming apart below him.

It’s good, great even, with their fronts touching, warmth coming through Scott’s thin shirt, past Mitch’s sweater and into his bones where it settles. Ultimately he gets a sense of peace, like Scott is helping him fix the ripped walls by cutting out little shapes of paper and taping them over the holes. An abstract piece that defines where they’ve been. Mitch squeezes his eyes shut.

Scott’s hands rove over his back, fingers kneading in. It calms Mitch’s heart, the tenderness of those big hands. He’s split between wanting to pull Scott into bed to cuddle and wanting to fuck him there instead. He’d settle for either, really, anything that keeps this closeness.

Somehow, but really it isn’t that unusual, not to Mitch, Scott reads his mind. Mitch is lifted as Scott stands, and he clings to the man, legs wrapped secure. He smiles into Scott’s shoulder, anticipation spinning in his stomach. He’ll take whatever he can get, whatever Scott is willing to give.

Mitch hopes it’s everything.


End file.
